5 Things that Never Happened to James Norrington
by Corri
Summary: The path of a man's life can be traced through the choices that he makes, each decision revealing new roads and closing others off forever. These are five of James Norrington's paths not taken. Gen, het, and implied slash.
1. Chance Meeting

Disclaimer: Pirates? Not mine.

Author's Note: Many thanks to Rei for the beta, and Osaka and Acchan for the readings and encouragement.

**One - Chance Meeting**

A boy stood alone on the docks. Behind him, the familiar bulk of his ship loomed close to her berth. Before him spread the city of Bombay in all of her Eastern glory. The boy, one James Norrington by name, was anxious to explore. He felt a little sad that he had no one to share his adventures. The captain had, of course, told the other midshipmen to look after him. However, when the older boys had set off intent on a day of whoring and drinking, neither of which appealed to twelve-year-old James, he had quietly slipped away with no one the wiser. He took careful note of where his ship was moored and set out for the city proper. The headquarters of the East India Company, a most impressive edifice, sat near the water's edge several ship-lengths down the docks, and James dutifully stopped for a moment to contemplate this monument to Britain's entrepreneurial might.

James' stomach growled. Though it had not been very long since he had eaten, he had done hard work since then, and finding something good to eat seemed like a capital idea. The harbor smelled of rotting fish and several other foul things James did not care to put a name to. However, there were some wonderfully tantalizing smells mixed in with the unsavory ones.

James followed the crowd down the main thoroughfare and found himself in a large open market. He wandered through the stalls, running his hands over bolts of silk and testing the heft of an ivory handled knife. All around him, great masses of people talked and laughed, bought and sold in a language he did not understand. It made him feel very small and unimportant, and he was still hungry. He saw venders selling unfamiliar foods, but he did not know what Indian dish would suit his taste, and he did not have the coin to make a wrong guess. He sat down on a squat barrel in order to think through his situation.

Without warning, an orange landed in his lap. James put his hands around it before it could roll onto the ground and looked up to see who had thrown it. Another boy a few years James' senior leaned against a wall a few feet away, grinning widely. He was a sailor, by the look of him. He wore a shabby brown coat that was several sizes too large for his lanky frame, his long dark hair was unkempt, and he had the scraggly beginnings of a goatee. James looked at the orange in his hand again and wondered if it was safe to trust a gift that had come from such a person.

"You looked hungry," the other boy said. He sauntered over and sat next to James. "You wouldn't happen to be lost, would you, lad?"

"I'm not lost," James insisted. He began to peel the orange, dropping the skin onto the ground near his feet. "I'm just trying to decide what to do next. But I'm not quite sure what I that is, since I've never been here before." He broke off a piece of the orange and bit into it. After weeks of hardtack and salted pork, the sweet, juicy taste was heaven.

"That's the case then, is it? Well, you are in luck. I am something of an expert on Bombay and would be wiling to show you what there is to be seen, if you'd like."

"Yes, please. That's very generous of you," James said between bites. "And my thanks for the fruit, as well."

The other boy shrugged. "I know how it is, just coming into port with naught but the taste of sailor's fare between your teeth… Now then, what's your name, boy?"

James stood up and drew himself to his full height. He was tall for his age, or so everyone told him, and he intended to show his new companion that he was no child. "I'm James Norrington, Midshipman of His Majesty's Navy," he said. "What's yours?"

"I'm Jack Sparrow." He put out a hand, and James shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, Jack," James said.

"Seems you've got some manners, I'll give you that," Jack said, laughing.

"My mother made sure of it," James said seriously.

Jack chuckled again. "I've no doubt she did…" he agreed. "Come on, let's get going."

James followed Jack Sparrow around Bombay for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. Jack showed him temples and palaces that had been standing since before the first European ever came to India. He showed him fine new mansions that the British had built to remind them of home. James saw parrots and monkeys and peacocks, and Jack even acquired one of the peacock's tail feathers for him as a souvenir.

They both grew hungry again, and Jack had James buy a piece of flat bread and dish of meat in sauce so spicy that James felt as if his tongue were on fire. Jack ran about like a madman looking for water for James to drink, which James found quite comical even in his distress. In the end, Jack let him have a drink from the flask he kept in his coat pocket. James choked a little at the strength of the liquor, but recovered quickly.

"Fine sailor's drink, rum is," Jack explained. "Good for pretty much everything."

James had to admit that he agreed.

When James first saw an elephant lumbering down the street toward them, he grasped Jack's arm.

"Is _that_ an elephant?" he asked. His eyes were large as he stared at the monstrous grey creature.

Jack looked at him a little strangely. "It is…" he said.

"Oh. It's just… I've never seen one before. Except for pictures in books, that is. I didn't expect it to be so big." Fear had faded to curiosity, and James moved to follow the elephant and its driver.

"You want to ride it?" Jack asked suddenly.

"What?" James said, alarmed. Looking was one thing, but riding such an enormous creature was quite another.

"Just wait here. Don't go anywhere." Jack grinned and ran over to the driver and got his attention. After speaking to the man for a while in his native language, Jack beckoned James over. "He says it's fine. Come on!"

James cautiously stepped closer as the elephant knelt on down so that the boys could get on its back. Jack climbed up first then helped James to scramble up and sit in front of him. When their mount rose to its feet, James tensed. Jack put his hands on the younger boy's shoulders.

"I've got you, Jamie. I won't let you fall."

James forced himself to relax. "I'm fine, really I am," he assured Jack.

And he was fine, once he became convinced that he was not going to fall off and be trampled to death. Being so high up was rather exhilarating, and James felt as if he were king of all he surveyed. As they rode, Jack taught James to say some very rude things in Hindi and told him stories of rajahs and courtesans and Hindu gods.

When Jack was quiet for a moment, James turned around and said, "It's very kind of you to pay me so much mind… I mean, you've got your own shipmates, don't you? I'd imagine… they'd be a lot more fun than I am."

"Aye, they're around here somewhere," Jack said. "Probably deep in their cups by now. Drink's a fine thing to be sure, but when I put into harbor I'd rather have a look around than head straight for the bottle. You meet more interesting folk that way." He winked at James and started off on another tale.

When the eastern sky began to grow dark, the two boys hurried back to the docks.

"That's my ship," James said resignedly, pointing at an imposing third-rate. "The _Prosperity."_

Jack's sharp, appraising eye ran over the _Prosperity,_ and he nodded. "She looks like a fine old girl," he said.

"Quicker than you'd think, too," James said proudly. "How about you? Where's your ship, Jack?"

Jack looked to the west and the dying light. "We've got a bit of time before the sun sets. Come with me and I'll show you, but let's be quick about it!"

The two of them raced down the docks until Jack came to an abrupt halt and James nearly ran into the back of him.

"There she is!" Jack made a grand sweeping gesture at a trim little ship docked nearby. "That's my _Lady Fair."_

"I'll bet she's fast," James said, true admiration in his voice.

"She is," Jack told him. Then, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But not as fast as the ship I'm going to have. Someday, I'll be _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. And I'll captain the fastest ship the seas have ever seen. You, lucky man, will be able to say you've heard of me!"

"I can do better than that! Just think, I've actually met you!" James said, playing along.

A ship's bell rang somewhere in the distance, bringing the boys back to the present.

"I have to go back now," James said quietly. "Today was… a good day. I thank you for that." Again, he felt small, sad, and very alone.

Jack slung his arm around James' shoulders and ruffled his hair affectionately with his other hand.

"No long face, now," Jack said. "Who knows? We might meet again someday. 'Til then, take care of yourself, Jamie."

"Godspeed, Jack," James said.

As the last light of the sun hit the rooftops of the city, the two boys parted, each one going his own way.


	2. Things Unsaid

**Two – Things Unsaid**

Jack Sparrow had always known the one thing he was not allowed to ask of James. Jack knew the power he had over his lover, knew that if he asked and meant it, James would not refuse. And so, he kept silent and sealed away the words he could not speak.

Then, one night when the moon was high and full and they lay together atop fine linen sheets, Jack twisted his fingers in James' dark hair and whispered, "Come away with me." The wind carried the smell of salt as it brushed over them.

James exhaled slowly. He turned his face toward the window, seeking the eternity of sky and sea. The stars flared wild and bright over the water, and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

Jack scarcely gave him any time to pack more than a few necessary things, and he hurried James down the stairs and out the servants' entrance as quickly as he could for fear the Commodore might change his mind.

When two men instead of one came scrambling up the ladder and onto the deck of the _Pearl_ some hours later, Gibbs, who was on watch at the time, raised an eyebrow at Jack. The Captain was in the habit of returning alone from his forays ashore. When the man he knew as Commodore Norrington stepped into the lantern-light, Gibbs nearly choked, and he stared unabashedly. Other pirates had begun to come out on deck, and they watched James cautiously as well.

"New addition to our crew," Jack said by way of explanation.

Wary tension drained from the _Pearl'_s sailors as if it had never been. Jack had called the navy man crew, and that was enough. Not a soul on board ever thought to ask for anything more.

They sailed for the South China Sea as the moon was setting, and James did not look back.

James shared Jack's bed that night, and every other night after it. In the morning, he went to work and began quietly and unassumingly weaving himself into the warp and weft of life on the _Pearl._ Any who harbored reservations about taking on a soft, gentle-born officer were soon proved wrong. James climbed about in the rigging as though he'd been born to it, he did not shrink from even the most menial of tasks, and he was quick to lend a helping hand where it was most needed.

In time, the soles of his feet grew hard and tough from walking barefoot across the planks. He let his hair grow until it touched his shoulders and tied it back in a tail at the nape of his neck. He patched and mended the once-fine shirts he had brought with him from Port Royal until he looked as worn and threadbare as any other pirate.

Jack never asked him if he was happy, but he was. Wind and sea and air, and the lifting of responsibility, had brought him no small measure of peace. Jack followed freedom's elusive song across the waters, and James was content to be at his side. Jack turned to him for counsel, and James' sharp and rational mind was a counterweight to Jack's caprice. The legend of Jack Sparrow grew, and a new figure began to appear in the stories traded over mugs of ale and grog—the captain's mate, a pale-eyed, handsome man who bore more than a striking resemblance to an officer who'd gone missing from Port Royal.

Out of respect, Jack did his best to keep his distance from ships of the line, and steered the _Pearl_ clear of ports where the navy had a noticeable presence. He had asked a great deal of James, and he would not ask him to stare across the void at the life he had given up.

But still, when a ship flying the Union Jack was spotted on the horizon, a serious, melancholy humor would come over James, and he would stand at the bow of the _Pearl_ and press his spyglass to his eye until the vessel sailed out of sight. Jack wondered if James was searching for familiar faces, and if he found them, but Jack Sparrow was wise enough not to ask.

Later, when melancholy had deepened into need and sorrow, James pressed his body hard against Jack's and held him in a fierce embrace, as if to remind himself exactly what it was he had gained by leaving.

On those nights, Jack saw the raw, unburnished loss in Jamie's eyes. And though he did everything he could to smooth that pain away, Jack always wondered if there were some questions he should have left unasked.


	3. A Man of Action

**Three - A Man of Action**

James Norrington, newly invested Commodore of His Majesty's vessels in the Caribbean, did not have time to consider the options. Nor did he have the time to think, or to weigh the consequences of his actions. He knew one thing and one thing only. The person most dear to him in all the world had just disappeared beneath the waves that beat at the foot of Fort Charles, and all that remained to mark her passage was a ripple in the water.

He began to remove his coat. The heavy garment would only weigh him down.

A hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him away from the ledge. Lieutenant Gillette stood beside him, his face etched with even more concern than usual.

"The rocks!" Gillette reminded him anxiously. "Sir, it's a miracle she missed them!"

James knew that his lieutenant was right, of course. No man who hadn't taken leave of his senses would willingly jump from the spot on which he stood.

James removed his hat and handed it to Gillette.

"Then we'd best pray that I am as fortunate," he said, and dove into the bay.

His body cut the water smoothly. Salt stung his eyes, but he could just make out the form of Elizabeth Swann lying on the sea bottom. At last, his hands brushed against her dress. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the sand.

His lungs were beginning to burn from lack of air as he swam toward the surface. It was slow going. Too slow, he feared. The weight of Elizabeth and her wet clothing bore him down. Elizabeth alone, he could have carried… The thought gave Norrington an idea.

Any other day, he would have died before touching a lady in such a fashion without her permission. But, the life of the woman in his arms and his own increasing need to breathe again drove all thoughts of propriety from his mind. He ripped her dress roughly down the front and freed her arms and legs from the heavy, tangled fabric.

Elizabeth was indeed as small and light as he had imagined, and the pale, distorted light coming from above drew closer swiftly. They broke the surface, and he drew a few sweet, gloriously long breaths of air before making for the nearest dock.

A crowd had gathered there, and James handed Elizabeth up to a pair of marines before accepting a bit of help getting out of the water himself. They laid her flat on the dock, and James noted with despair how pale and limp she was. Governor Swann knelt beside her, and James joined him.

"She's not breathing," he shouted, hoping that someone would have the sense to call for a doctor.

"Getting rid of the bloody corset might fix that!" yelled an unmannered voice James did not recognize. It was an odd suggestion, but it made a surprising amount of sense.

"Give me your knife," James ordered the nearest marine.

The fellow gave him a confused look, but he pulled his blade from his belt and handed it to James hilt first. Briefly, James met the governor's eyes, as if to say, "With your permission," and slit Elizabeth's corset open. Immediately, she began to cough. James held her head in his lap as she gasped for air.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and James had never found them more beautiful. As he helped her to sit up, she tilted her head to one side in confusion.

"Commodore Norrington?"

"Yes?" he said gently.

Elizabeth blinked several times, trying to clear her head. "You… jumped in after me?"

"I did," he told her.

She looked at him for several long moments. He did not look at all like the stiff and proper man who had proposed to her. He had lost his wig and his shoes, and there was a bit of seaweed caught at the cuff of his shirt.

"That was very brave of you," she murmured.

"I could have done nothing less," he said earnestly.

Elizabeth smiled then, not the forced upturning of the lips required by polite convention, but a true smile. James felt that his heart would surely stop.

"Thank you, James," she said. She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him on the cheek. She drew back, looking at him expectantly.

James knew that Port Royal would be afire with gossip within the hour.

_Let them talk,_ he thought as he bent to kiss her.


	4. Best Laid Plans

**Four - Best Laid Plans**

Commodore Norrington rapped sharply on the door of the smithy. Before he could even step back and wait to be admitted, the door swung open, and young William Turner stared expectantly out into the darkening streets. Norrington cleared his throat, and Turner, seeing for the first time who his guest was, frowned.

"Commodore! I… wasn't expecting you," Turner said. "If you're here to see my master, I'm sorry, but he's out. I can tell him that you called, but…"

James allowed himself a half smile at Turner's obvious confusion. "It's you I've come to talk to," he said at last. "May I come in?"

Tuner remembered his manners at last, and invited James inside. Though it was late in the evening, the heat that still rose from the cooling forge made the workshop almost unbearably hot. James resisted the urge to shake off his coat and studied Turner's rack of completed blades instead. He could feel the young man eyeing him warily, but he did not let Turner's suspicion goad him into speaking too quickly.

At last, when it seemed that the Turner boy was about to burst from nervous curiosity, James broke the silence.

"Jack Sparrow is to be hanged tomorrow," he said.

"I haven't forgotten," Turner said quietly. There was steel in his young voice, the Commodore would grant him that.

James bent to inspect one of the swords more closely. It was a plain blade, not a showpiece, but it had a practical, deadly elegance. With his back still to Turner, he continued, "It would be a shame if anything were to happen to disrupt the carrying out of Sparrow's sentence."

He turned then and looked at Turner. His face had gone pale beneath its covering of soot and dust.

"You're accusing me of plotting to free Jack?" Turner said angrily.

"I know you, Mr. Turner, and I am sure beyond the slightest possibility of doubt that you are planning _something_."

As usual, acting as if he already knew with absolute certainty things he did not know worked to the Commodore's advantage.

"You can't know that!" Turner exclaimed. "Which of us would have told y—" he stopped in mid-word, realizing he'd said too much.

James nodded. It was as he'd suspected. Elizabeth had to be the other whom Turner spoke of, and if it hurt him that she would plot with Turner to rescue Jack under his very nose, he was gracious enough not to show it.

"So you've come to warn me, or to threaten me?" Turner demanded.

"I'm made no threats here," James said blandly. "I simply remarked that it would be a shame if someone were to make a scene at Sparrow's hanging and allow him to escape. Especially with the _Black Pearl_ anchored so close."

Turner's eyes widened. So, it seemed that he had not yet heard of the _Pearl'_s arrival just off the Jamaican coastline. James let the information settle for a moment. He could almost see the possibilities working themselves out behind Will Turner's eyes.

Believing that the necessary seed had been planted, Norrington headed for the door.

"Why are you telling me this?" Turner asked just as James put his hand on the latch.

James winced. He had hoped he would not have to answer that question so directly, but as it seemed young Turner had no understanding of subtlety whatsoever, James would have to try a different tack.

"I told you because I'm hoping you can do what I cannot," James said.

Turner stared at him with a furrowed brow for a long moment.

"You're… trying to _help_ me?"

Though it still went against his better judgment, his duties as an officer of the law, and every shred of common sense he possessed, James nodded.

"I am."

Turner glared at him incredulously. James couldn't blame him. He had, after all, been the one forced to give the order to have Sparrow arrested after the pirate's return to the _Dauntless_ from the Isla de Muerta.

"You'll have to excuse me if I don't quite believe you, Commodore," Turner said. "Why help me? Why help Jack?"

"If Jack Sparrow hangs tomorrow, the letter of the law will be fulfilled," James explained. He bowed his head, and his face was veiled in shadow. "And yet, it seems to me that if Jack Sparrow hangs tomorrow, the _spirit_ of the law will somehow be tarnished." James squared his shoulders and looked Turner in the eye. "Therefore, if someone who is not… bound by necessity, as I am, were to aid in Sparrow's escape, I would try to hinder him as little as possible."

Will Turner still looked as if a stiff breeze would blow him over, but he nodded in agreement.

"I understand," he said.

Again, James turned to leave. "One more thing, Mr. Turner," he said as he put his hand on the door. "Do try not to hurt too many of my men. They're only doing what they're told."

"I'll keep that in mind," Turner assured him.

Norrintgon ducked under the low door and stepped out into the street.

"Well then, I bid you farewell until tomorrow, and wish you the very best of luck," James said. He winked at Turner, then left the speechless young man behind him and headed home, his conscience lighter than it had been in a long while.


	5. Reunion

Five - Reunion

As always, Newgate prison reeked of unwashed bodies and every kind of human suffering. James Norrington held a handkerchief to his nose as he followed the guard down the dank corridor. He felt the chill deep in his bones, and he shivered. The passing of time had begun to lay its hand upon him. His hair was touched with silver at his temples, and there were fine lines across his brow and at the corners of his eyes.

At last, the guard halted at one of the heavy doors that lined the hallway. He swung the iron grate outward and gestured for James to enter.

"You have my thanks," James said to the guard. "Now, if you would leave us for a moment..."

"Sir," the guard said. He tipped his hat before backing out of the cell, shutting the door behind him.

The prisoner sat in the shadows against the back wall with one leg bent against his chest and the other extended in front of him. His hat was pulled down low over his eyes, and he appeared to be asleep. James almost smiled. Some things, it would seem, never changed.

"Hello, Jack," James said softly.

Jack Sparrow raised his head, and a sardonic, crooked grin spread across his face.

"Well, well, Commodore Norrington. What might you be doing here?"

"Actually, I'm an admiral now," James corrected him.

"So I'd heard," Jack said. "But that doesn't answer the question, does it?"

"I got word of your capture, and of your conviction, and I thought I might be of some use," James said. He shifted uneasily. Jack was still sprawled on the floor, and James did not like feeling as if he were looming sternly above him. He wished that he could at least sit down, but there was nothing in the cell but a dirty pallet in the corner.

Jack, seemingly sensing James' discomfort, got to his feet and stepped into the dim light. James kept his face carefully blank. The fifteen years that had passed since their parting had not been kind to Captain Jack Sparrow. To begin with, he was terribly thin, and the ragged shirt that hung loosely off of him made him look like a scarecrow. Though his eyes were still young, time and the sun had etched deep lines into his face. His hair was shot through with gray, and when he put a hand on the wall to steady himself, James saw that the little finger on his left hand was missing.

"Not here to visit an old friend, then?" Jack asked.

"I had not thought that you still called yourself my friend," he said.

There was no bitterness in James' words, but Jack scowled at the mention of the breach between them. He swaggered over to James and put a falsely companionable hand on his shoulder.

"So tell me, Admiral," Jack said, "how's your wife?"

Even after so many years, there was enough edge in Jack's voice to cut.

James lowered his eyes. "She died three years ago this winter," he said. When he looked up again, his face was hard and dangerous. "I'll not have you speak ill of her, Jack. She was a fine woman."

"Sorry to hear that," Jack said, sounding as if he almost meant it. "Do you have children?" It was an honest question this time.

"First, there was a daughter, but we lost her to a fever when she was three," James said. "My son… his name was Peter… he died this past March. He was ten."

Jack knew James well enough to see how much it pained him to speak of the ones he had lost. Suddenly, the things that had driven them apart seemed very foolish and unimportant, and Jack was sorry that he had spoken sharply.

"If you'd met him, I think you would have liked him," James continued. "He was… a sweet, clever little boy."

"Wish I could have," Jack said.

James nodded.

"And you?" he asked at last. "I was surprised when I heard they'd gotten you all the way to England. I'd have thought the _Pearl_ and her crew would have rescued you long before you reached London."

It was Jack's turn to look pained. "You haven't heard, then." Much of the life seemed to go out of him. "The _Pearl'_s gone, James. The sea claimed her in the end. So you see, you're not the only one who's lost much."

James took the news with a bowed head.

"I never said I was," he said after a while. "I'm sorry about the _Pearl._ She was a good ship, and I would have liked to walk her decks again."

James respectfully removed his hat and both of them were quiet for a moment in remembrance of Jack's fine lady. The air was heavy with the weight of all that had passed between them, but neither could bring himself to speak of it.

"You didn't come here so we could trade sad stories, did you," Jack said at last. "Though I don't know what help you think you could possibly be to me."

James pulled a folded piece of paper with an official seal out of his coat pocket.

"This is for you," he said, and handed it to Jack.

Jack broke the seal, took one look at what was written there, and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"This is a royal pardon," he said to James as if the fact had somehow escaped him.

"Yes," James said.

"You did this." Jack said. It was not a question.

Again, James nodded. "I did."

"But… why?" Jack was genuinely confused.

"Because I would not see you rot in prison," James said, a bit of heat seeping into his voice. "Or see you swing at the Tyburn gallows."

"So I'm free to go?" Jack asked, desperately hopeful at the thought of freedom.

"You are," James said. "You will be escorted out and given a small purse and a few necessaries."

"Provided by you?"

"It's certainly not the government's usual practice to give gifts to prisoners upon their release," James answered. He turned and knocked loudly on the door. The guard came shuffling down the corridor and hastily unlocked the cell. Jack still stood in the middle of the room, holding the pardon in both hands.

James looked over his shoulder at him. "Best of luck to you," he said, and was gone before Jack could even murmur a word of thanks.

The first thing Jack Sparrow saw when the prison doors slammed shut behind him was a lone carriage waiting at the side of the street. A footman opened the door as he approached, and he could just make out a familiar form sitting inside.

"Where will you go?" James asked, his voice cool and neutral.

"Wherever the fates decide to toss me now, I suppose," Jack said. He affected a nonchalant, devil-may-care pose that belied his weariness.

James sighed. "You don't _have_ anywhere to go, do you?"

"Not precisely. Let's just say the exact details haven't been worked out yet," Jack said.

James leaned forward in his seat and waited for several moments. When Jack didn't move, he said, "Well? Are you coming? I'd rather not sit here all day in the cold with the door open." Though he sounded exasperated, Jack could see a hint of amusement in James' eyes.

For the second time in an hour, Jack wondered if James had lost his mind.

"Where are we going?" Jack asked cautiously.

He sidled up to the carriage and peered at James, trying to guess what the Admiral was playing at.

James offered Jack a hand to help him up.

"Home, of course," James said.


End file.
